


Dreams and Memories of a Life Unlived

by pinesboi



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: I have a final Im supposed to work on, and a retrospection on his life at the academy, just a bit of a look inside Caleb's head, so i did this instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinesboi/pseuds/pinesboi
Summary: The dreams come less often then they used to. It was at it’s worst when he first left the asylum- bad enough that he learned to survive on two or three hours of sleep each night. He couldn’t seem to escape it. Their screams, their faces. He can’t even begin to count the number of times he’s tried to picture how exactly they died. If they cried. If they clawed at every door and window to try and escape. If they knew it had been him, or if they never had the time to think about it. The process of it had become a nightly ritual for years. It probably hadn’t helped the nightmares any, but he didn’t care.





	Dreams and Memories of a Life Unlived

The dreams come less often then they used to. It was at it’s worst when he first left the asylum- bad enough that he learned to survive on two or three hours of sleep each night. He couldn’t seem to escape it. Their screams, their faces. He can’t even begin to count the number of times he’s tried to picture how exactly they died. If they cried. If they clawed at every door and window to try and escape. If they knew it had been him, or if they never had the time to think about it. The process of it had become a nightly ritual for years. It probably hadn’t helped the nightmares any, but he didn’t care.

They don’t happen as much now. Caleb tries to convince himself that it's because his mind is on other things. The war, for starters. The thousand different mysteries and opportunities that surround him in the form of his adventures and his companions. Unanswered questions that claw at his mind, almost in the way unsolved spells do. A kind of craving for a response that tends to occupy the empty space in his mind where he used to fill with fire. It’s a double-edged sword, really. He’s relieved to finally get a night’s rest. Even when they’re all traveling and could quite possibly all perish at any second, there’s a certain sense of safety. A feeling that he’d almost call safety, all of them piled on top of one another in the dome. Yet it feels wrong, to not have that nightly reminder. He deserved to suffer, to be punished for what he’d done. He wanted to suffer for it.

Still, it has allowed Caleb to dream of other things. Memories, mostly. Things he tries to forget about his time in training. The times when things didn’t seem so bad, when he and Astrid and Eodwulf were able to make their own fun while they were on their own. It sent a pang through his heart to see either of them, for different reasons. He often finds his mind wandering on its own, in those few and far between moments where he releases the tight control on his focus. He thinks about what they look like now- if Astrid’s kept her hair short, if she ever grew to be taller than him like she always claimed she would. If that scar above her eye she’d gotten in her first year at the Academy had faded. He thinks about Eodwulf too. He’d always been impressively built; it was hard for Caleb to imagine him getting much bigger. He’d always had his hair cropped close at school, but he’d talked about growing it out long and never cutting it back again.

They’d been close. Closer than Trent had ever really wanted them to get. No ties, no connections. Their greater purpose was to serve the King, to ensure that the Empire remained strong. Anything else would’ve held them back from committing themselves completely to their profession. Yet, they’d still become close. He hated to think about it, but Caleb was closer with his fellow apprentices than he’d ever been with his parents. He’d shared things with Astrid and Eodwulf that he’d never told anyone before. Did things he’d only done with them. If he had to quantify it with a word, Caleb might’ve even called it love. A young, naïve love- the kind that either burns itself out or lasts for decades, as such relationships are prone to do. He supposes he’ll never know how long it would’ve stayed like that for. If one of them had died, if the other two would have carried on.

The altogether more terrifying concept Caleb now considers is the possibility of seeing them again. Of facing them on the other side of a battle. Would they even recognize him? Sixteen years and the burden of grief took its toll on him. He could see it when he looked in the mirror. The lines that form his frown, the weary look in his eye. Caleb almost loses sight of the once handsome, promising young man the people in his village had praised as being so talented. The leader he was raised to believe he would be. The absence of that confidence left him feeling empty for the first few years out of the asylum. Parts of it had come back- being able to walk freely in Xhorhas, and his progress in his own magical studies had facilitated that, as well as the presence of several quite imposing friends he now found himself fond of.

All cleaned up and finally in new robes, he supposed he could see a bit of him, Bren. The man he might’ve become. The man that might’ve spent his life with Astrid and Eodwulf. The man that might’ve been tasked to kill the very friends he’s come to cherish, and done it without a second’s hesitation. Caleb’s not quite sure if he wants to overwrite him completely or embrace him.

He lets the dreams come, quietly. He dreams of Astrid’s hand in his, casually by the fire while they study, of Eodwulf’s head in his lap as he holds a freshly bandaged arm to his chest. When he wakes, normally earlier than everyone else, he takes a moment to look out around him. Caleb mourns for that life, the one that had to die and the love that had to shrivel for him to come where he is now. But, soon enough, he gets up and dresses. He looks to his friends- Caduceus making breakfast, humming softly under his breath a tune older than Caleb himself, Jester and Nott still half asleep and leaning on each other to stay awake, Yasha kindly nodding a silent hello his way, Fjord greeting him good morning and giving him a pat on the shoulder, Beau welcoming him with a few casual curse words and a rundown of her dream the previous night. Caleb feels quite at peace with himself. He feels at peace, in a place between Bren and Caleb. He has such a long, long way to go. For the first time though, Caleb feels as if he might just have enough will in him to walk that road. To become better. To be a better man. Both for the child that was accepted into the Academy so many years ago, and for the motley group he sees before him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk about Critical Role some more or have some questions, check out my tumblr- https://pinesboi.tumblr.com/


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